The Trouble with String
by OneDarkandStormyNight
Summary: Arthur was a dog-lover. He had five of them, big ones, each one more slobbery than the next, and he didn't think it was possible for any species of animal to be better-suited for him...until his trouble-prone manservant gets turned into a cat. Pure fluff
1. Chapter 1

_It seems like, no matter how hard I try to write for other fandoms, every other story I upload is Merlin. Oh, well. It's not like I don't love every second of it.  
So, the story behind _this_ story is that, in an original book of mine, one of the main characters has a pet cat named Abigail. So there I was, minding my own business, searching through various cat types to find one that suited Abigail, and I came across a paper about the Siamese cat, which summarized in this line:  
"The Siamese cat personality is talkative, fun-loving and adventurous, intelligent and clever, loving and loyal, sociable, graceful, and, just very occasionally, a little clumsy too."  
I was going to let it go at that, but then, not thirty seconds later, this picture appeared (delete spaces):  
h t t p : / / 2 . b p . b l o g s p o t . c o m / - I x 6 i B X 0 c V w I / T f m t I w G X R D I / A A A A A A A A A H 8 / 8 K c c Q q z U 7 y A / s 1 6 0 0 / s i a m e s e + c a t s + s w e e t . j p g__  
And I was sold. (This is reaching a weird and unhealthy level.)  
Enjoy this fluffy fic (no pun intended)!_

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**Chapter 1**

He was running. Again.

Whether it was in the early morning, from his and Gaius' chambers to Arthur's, so that he wouldn't be late and get a good smack across the head with a metal cup for it, or in the afternoons, when Arthur insisted he be the moving target and he maneuvered back and forth across a field carrying what was probably_ too_ much armour for a mere aim exercise, or _all those times_ when he was running from bandits and witches and big, ugly, stinky beasts, leaping over fallen trees and half-stumbling down steep hills…only the gods knew how his legs managed to keep going.

In fact, only the gods knew how he was still _alive_.

The heels of his old, sturdy boots skidded against the hay-lined dirt as he half-stumbled to a halt. Frantically, he looked around for some escape, because he could hear Morgana's men behind him, and he had precious little seconds before they were going to round the corner and find him standing there, trapped between their merciless blades and three stone walls, and somehow he didn't think Morgana would waste time and effort on inventing a scheme for him to fulfill this time.

Huffing breathlessly, his eyes scanned the wall blockading him again, and he felt the sharpest urge to roll his eyes at the whole situation. He'd been picking herbs, for heaven's sake! Was it really reaching the point where this sort of stuff wasn't even reserved for times of battle anymore?

He was still wracking his brain for a way of escape when a small sound climbed over the noise of the approaching assassins, and he looked down just in time to see a tiny, yellow creature start to swipe its long tail gently against his boot.

The kitten, when it peered up and saw Merlin's eyes watching it, scuffled clumsily back across the alley to the shadow of a small box, where his mother licked at his ear and his gray-striped brother tackled him, playfully nipping at his rounded ear.

As the two small felines tumbled into a knot of paws and tails, Merlin murmured quietly, and the gold of his eyes faded mere seconds before the dark men appeared at the end of the alley.

"_Awendan min hiw. Macian me on seo ge-sceaft."_

* * *

"Are you _sure_ this is where you saw him?"

Gwaine shot at look in his direction which clearly stated that if Arthur wasn't the king, he would have responded with something considerably wittier than,

"I'm positive, sire. He ran into this alley, I saw the men chasing him, I went to help, and by the time I got here, they were already running down the street and the whole place was empty. Not a sign of Merlin anywhere."

Arthur's keen, blue eyes roamed the near-barren alley, scarcely stopping over the half-rotted boxes and empty sacks as he questioned further,

"And you're sure they didn't have him with them?"

"Absolutely sure, Arthur. I'd have chased them without stopping if they had."

Leon stepped forward, toward the alleyway at whose mouth they stood, saying at the same time,

"Perhaps they knocked him out, and you just missed him."

And because Sir Leon was _not_ the king and therefore demanded no more respect than he himself did, Gwaine's quick answer was,

"I may not be the cleverest of men, but I know the difference between Merlin and a pile of old crates."

Arthur, who was, at the worrisome absence of his trouble-prone manservant, considerably too distracted to snort at his unrefined friend and the intimidating look on his older companion's demeanor, followed Leon into the forgotten corner of Camelot. He and the three other knights at his back soon found Gwaine to be correct, for there was, dishearteningly, nothing there to speak of but a stack of half-rotted boxes against the right wall and a discoloration on the ground where a puddle gathered during rains. The only sign of life was the slight flitting of a mother cat's tail on the opposite side of the lowest crate.

Arthur's eyes, obstinately unrevealing of his inner, gnawing concern, roamed over the place once for any sign of his friend before he dismissed it as futile and turned back to his men again.

"We must—" he began, and then a strange sensation made him look down to his right ankle.

The knights looked on in perplexity as their king leant down and swiped something up carefully in one hand. He held it up in both hands, and they all gathered 'round to observe a little, slender being with light gray, silken fur, too-big ears, and the roundest sea-blue eyes they had ever before seen. It was none of these characteristics, however, but the large, Camelot-red neckerchief falling clumsily around the creature's chest that caught their attentions.

"Why," questioned Elyan slowly, to no one in particular, "would Merlin tie his scarf to a cat?"

It was in that moment that said cat, who was a breed Arthur had never before observed in all his years wandering these streets, apparently decided he was tired of being hung in mid-air in the king's calloused hands, and so his lean limbs began to kick and his thin body twisted disgruntledly.

With one hand, Arthur undid the knot which bound the neckerchief to the little animal, flipping the piece of cloth over in his left hand just to assure himself that it was, in fact, Merlin's; of course, it had to have been, for no other man in Camelot wore such atrocious neck-scarves. All the while, the cat—still dangling on his right hand—began to grow more restless by the second, whining noisily as he struggled to be released and found that he was unable to break himself free from the fingers which held him captive.

Arthur, eyes still locked upon the neckerchief as he attempted to piece together how it might lead them to Merlin, bent down again and set the young cat on the ground obligingly.

The small creature bounded gratefully three times toward the busy street before changing his mind entirely and turning right back toward the band of noble men.

"What could it mean, Arthur?" Leon was asking, and even his eyes were clouded with confusion and concern for the little manservant who had so easily become an unlikely friend to all of them.

"We must—" Arthur began again, only to have his sentence cut off a second time by the same peculiar feel of a soft tail encircling his ankle.

The cat's loving purr was audible even over the dull noise of the market in the street behind them as he tiptoed at Arthur's boots, rubbing his back and side against the worn leather in affection for the owner.

"I think he likes you," Percival pointed out the obvious in a soft tone, and Arthur ignored him and pushed the cat away gently with the toe of his boot.

"We must find out who those men were, and who sent them," their leader continued solemnly. "If they somehow took Merlin, we can waste no time in finding him. Who knows what sort of trouble he's in this time."

It was then that Gwaine, who had the attention-span of a sparrow and therefore was prone to wandering, let out a little exclamation which called the attention of his companions. Half-hidden behind the crates (from which the aforementioned mother cat and her two kittens were curiously peeking), Gwaine held up a fawn jacket, a worn-blue shirt, brown trousers, and a pair of telltale boots.

The other men paled.

"What could they have done to him?" murmured Elyan to himself, echoing Arthur's increasingly distraught thoughts as Gwaine, whose handsome face had become shadowed with trepidation and bafflement, brought the terribly familiar clothes before him.

There was no blood on them—_thank God_—but Arthur yet could not fathom where to begin searching for his servant, and he was only just barely managing to keep himself from imagining what sort of things could be happening to his dear friend at that very moment. As he clutched the old neck-scarf in his hand, he wracked his brain for an answer—something to jump out at him, to give him a clue, _God, send me something…_

The pale-gray cat, now encased in a perceptive Percival's strong hands, mewled vociferously for Arthur's attention.

He turned, and when the little feline saw that the blonde man was looking, his childlike whining ceased, enormous, triangular ears perking up a bit more as he peered into the king's handsome face, wide eyes sparkling with simple inquisitiveness and unconditional devotion.

And suddenly, Arthur knew.

**To be continued**

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_Please be sure to search the picture mentioned above so that you'll know what Merlin looks like as a cat. It'll make you smile. I promise.  
And please review! Updates on the way!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Took a day longer to post than I expected; my apologies for that, but here it is, ready to be read by you patient people...chapter two of the adorableness that is kitty!Merlin. I seriously hope I'm able to get the image of him to you accurately, because I'm telling you, he's the cutest thing ever in my imagination. *hugs kitty!Merlin tight*  
Thanks to everyone who favorited this story, and special thanks to all of you wonderful people who reviewed. You make posting worthwhile!_

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**Chapter 2**

"What do you think, Gaius?"

The long-time physician stood straight from where he had been leant over in careful examination of the newest oddity brought to him by the younger generation of Camelot. (What he was actually examining, Arthur knew not, but it was his trust in the man who had been his father's most valued advisor that made him keep his silence and stand patiently while he drew his conclusions.)

With sharp eyes, Gaius stared down at the occupant of his eating-table, watching in silent consideration as the slender feline licked the back of his paw daintily and then proceeded to become distracted by his own reflection in a nearby beaker of bluish-purple headache elixir.

The quick physician barely managed to catch said beaker when the peculiar-looking cat poked at it with one claw and it nearly toppled over onto the floor.

The cat did not, as most other cats would have, leap back at Gaius' sudden movement, but only regarded him with eyes which, were Arthur one to suppose things, he might have thought were slightly abashed at his almost-blunder.

"Well," said Gaius at long last, narrowing his eyes at the perilous creature, "there is only one way to know for certain, I believe, your majesty."

The four knights, who stood a few footsteps away, leaned closer in interest but helpfully remained wordless as their king nodded in acknowledgement of Gaius' judgment.

Not one of the other men expected it when the older member of the court grasped Arthur's wrist and brought it hastily toward the cat as though to strike it. The instinctively alarmed animal retaliated by digging its remarkably sharp teeth into the sensitive place between the king's thumb and forefinger.

"Hang on!"

At Arthur's abrupt cry of pain, the creature released his hand from its jaws and observed the tiny punctures his own teeth had made; though there was only a single droplet of blood in one spot, his little, pink tongue emerged anyway to lick caringly at the marks. Even as he gently did this, however, small sounds of what sounded suspiciously like reprimand, combined with a pointed blue-eyed glare, bespoke of his still-lingering discontentment at the blonde man's uncouth behavior.

"That's Merlin," muttered Gwaine, and a chuckle arose amongst the men.

Arthur, slightly open-mouthed, touched his fingers against the side of the animal's—_Merlin's?_—soft throat, and watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as the now-forgiving feline closed his eyes contentedly and rubbed his ear against the rough pads of Arthur's fingers.

"Definitely Merlin," agreed Percival in a low rumble, making certain that their king could not hear and therefore would not know how very closely his and his manservant's complicated (and intriguing) friendship was playfully observed by his (rather nosy) knights.

"What," Arthur's loud timbre grabbed the attention of all present (including the lean cat that was, apparently, his shabby manservant, whose swishing, two-toned tail stilled at the sound of his speaking, eyes flickering up to his stern face and low purring frozen), "can we do to reverse this?"

"It would take magic for us to do anything about it," Gaius told him, watching warily as Merlin, seeing the attention drawn away from him, took the opportunity to pounce on a nearby book, and then quirked his head at it, as though expecting it to react, or perhaps trying to read the words on the page.

Arthur clenched his teeth together, his eyes clouding as his gaze dropped to the floor, feeling a variety of helplessness—different from the one he'd felt in the absence of his manservant that very morning—rising in his chest.

"However," the understanding physician hastily clarified, "such spells as these usually do not last very long, and if I recall, the one the sorcerer likely used to change Merlin was one which lasts only twenty-four hours, if that long."

Truthfully, this he only recalled because Merlin had been reciting these facts to him just three days before from the ancient book now carefully hidden beneath the planks of his room, but the unenlightened king needn't know such things, Gaius thought inwardly, especially given the young warlock's current…condition.

The old physician eyed the feline as he was attempting to nose his way through a small box of heather sitting on the tabletop, succeeding only in making himself sneeze, which made his long tail twitch and knock over a wooden bowl, in turn, making him leap back in confusion at the noise.

"Does he know who we are, still?" Elyan inquired, looking down at the light-furred creature from where they all had gathered around to observe his now distrustfully poking the offending bowl.

"No," Gaius replied certainly. "His mind is still his own, but just like his body, it has been reduced to a feline state; he may be relying upon instincts of us brought on by his human memory, but he'll have no real recollections of anything in his past. But do not worry, your majesty."

Arthur looked up to meet his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed at the honesty and sureness in Gaius' weathered face.

"He will be fine by this time tomorrow; I'm sure of it," Gaius affirmed, and then he settled his worn, steady hand on his king's broad shoulder. "He'll be back to normal, sire, with no unwanted effects."

Arthur pulled his eyes away from the little cat, and back to Gaius, the doubts dissipating from his face at the wisdom of the long-time court physician. The others followed him to the door of the lived-in chambers, where he paused briefly and glanced back to where Merlin was. The cat was sitting in the center of the eating-table, watching him walk away with curious and forlorn eyes.

"I'll keep him here; he'll be safe," the older man answered Arthur's unspoken question.

"Of course," said the king in finality. "Thank you, Gaius. When he returns to normal, please tell him I expect to see him in my chambers with _very_ good explanations."

"Of course, my lord."

It was not until after Gaius had closed the chamber door, breathed a weary sigh, and gone to get a bowl and some drinking-water from a nearby pitcher that he realized his table was now, unsurprisingly, empty of any bright-eyed, big-eared, danger-prone felines.

* * *

Gwen, as always, waited until Arthur was within hearing distance before smiling broadly at him and curtsying in that femininely polite manner which the king had already told her multiple times was unnecessary.

"Good morning, Arthur," said she in greeting, as she shifted the weight of her basket of laundry to her side. "Did you find Merlin? Gaius told me you were looking for him."

"Ah—" he began, but before he could explain any part of the peculiar circumstances to his beloved Guinevere, Percival called out from behind him.

When he turned, the first thing he noted was the shouting man over the shoulder of his strong knight, and how his wagon had been forced to a halt in the midst of the courtyard—to avoid, he realized when he looked down into Percival's rescuing hands, a certain, ridiculously careless creature with pale-grey fur and clumsy-graceful legs.

Merlin wriggled around irately in Percival's grasp, tiny meows escaping his throat as he attempted to scratch at the thick hands of the gentle giant, and Percival laughed along with Leon, who had not yet parted ways with them. When Merlin spotted Arthur's eyes upon him, however, he halted immediately, and though no sound came out, he opened his mouth widely as if pleading for him.

Arthur sighed a long, rumbling sigh, and Percival passed the skinny creature over to him; though the noble-hearted king held him much less carefully than the kind knight, dangling in one hand instead of cradled securely against his chest, Merlin struggled only a little and mewled with more resigned allowance than anything.

"Merlin…" Arthur warned.

Guinevere's presence as she looked over his shoulder was evident, but in her truly ladylike fashion, the young woman said nothing in her immense acquisitiveness. So, he held up the skinny feline for her to get a better look, and she nearly dropped the basket of laundry upon the dirty ground as her caramel eyes met the wide, bright, too-human pair before her.

"What…happened? Is he all right?"

The genuine concern and utter lack of surprise in her voice only made Arthur love her all the more.

"Gaius says he'll be fine," he answered quietly after he'd looked around to be sure none of the other people in the square could overhear, switching the cat's warm body to his other hand so that Merlin faced her directly and feeling the fast-beating heart behind a tiny ribcage. "We don't know who did this, but it shouldn't last longer than twenty-four hours…and then, we ought to get a truly wondrous explanation from Merlin here."

The animal only mewled a grumpy half-sigh as Arthur shook him in gesture.

Guinevere let out a little laugh of amazement, her eyes brightening as she reached out to touch Merlin's soft fur with one hand, patting him tenderly on the head between his huge ears.

Merlin began to purr again, his long tail swishing back and forth as he rubbed his face against her soft fingers companionably; when she started to move away again, he licked her index finger like a child's kiss of affection, his eyes meeting hers in warm acceptance of her friendship.

She grinned at him.

"Are you going anywhere near Gaius' chambers?" asked Arthur, recalling her attention.

"I was," she replied willfully. "Why?"

"Could you please take him back there? He was supposed to stay with Gaius until he was back to normal."

"Oh, Arthur," said she with sympathy for the former manservant who was presently gazing up at their king like he was a wonder among men (which he was, she acknowledged in her own mind, but the cat wasn't supposed to have figured that out), "he wants to be with you."

Arthur fought off an exasperated grin and rolled his eyes at the newly (and perhaps even more than usually) irritating creature.

"I have things to do today," he said, "and you saw what just happened. Merlin the _man_ can't stay out of trouble for longer than fifteen minutes; Merlin the cat will be dead in ten if someone isn't watching him constantly."

Guinevere chuckled in helpless agreement at that, and held out her clothesbasket welcomingly. Arthur dropped the feline into it atop the soft pile of white blankets, making sure Merlin would not immediately leap out of it before he circled the young woman, stepping toward the castle's entrance. Merlin did not seem to mind Guinevere's gently swinging motions, for he lay down comfortably in a little ball, his tail coming to rest in front of his nose as his eyes blinked slowly, moving back and forth between Arthur and Gwen.

"I'll see you later, then, your majesty," said Gwen, with considerably more sentiment and depth than was proper for just an ordinary maidservant.

Arthur smiled in equal return of her regard.

"Have a good afternoon, Guinevere."

"Good-bye, Leon, Percival."

The two knights waved in answer to the lovely lady as they all went their separate ways. None of them saw the little feline poke his head out of the top of the basket, his ears dropping so that his face was the perfect picture of sadness as the blonde king took the steps up to the castle and disappeared into its doors.

Guinevere smirked as Merlin nudged his nose against the blankets until his whole body disappeared beneath them, and she thought he had fallen asleep…until she folded them back in Gaius' chambers to find the clever cat had leapt out the side when she hadn't been looking.

**To be continued**

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_Hope you liked this chapter; leave me a review, if you please._


	3. Chapter 3

_So, so, so many thank-yous to everyone who took the time to review the first two chapters. I'm glad this out-of-the-ordinary fic is so well-accepted...and yes, as many of you have pointed out, feline!Merlin is unlawfully adorable, isn't he? I know it would probably be a silly storyline, but I think it'd be brilliant if they changed him into an animal for just half of an episode (or even Arthur...I bet he'd make a fun cat, too, all blonde and headstrong and attracted to anything shiny).  
Anyways, I hope you like this chapter, and there's more to come soon, both in this story and in others I'm planning. (And I'm in the process of writing a more major fic, too, so yeah...no worries about me dropping out of this fandom anytime soon...*hehe*)_

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**Chapter 3**

Arthur was just greeting a curtsying maidservant good-morning when he happened to spot a ball of white-gray fur carefully trotting up the stone stairs behind him, the small creature taking them one by one and concentrating upon every step so as not to tumble all the way back down.

Trying not to be impressed with his former manservant' frankly improbable abilities to escape any hold and/or direct order, Arthur sighed heavily and went back down the stairs to meet the little creature half-way.

"Do you ever do as you're told, Merlin?"

His only response was an answering meow, but he had the feeling he knew how to accurately interpret it.

"Right. Well, in case you didn't know, I have better things to do than to keep up with you all day."

Merlin mewled unhappily as Arthur grasped him by the back of his neck and lifted him off the stairs, his sky eyes meeting the king's sapphire ones evenly and one paw coming out to caress the man's nose.

Arthur shook off his touch disgruntledly and wondered how it was that, even in this form, Merlin still knew _exactly_ how to irritate him.

Merlin made a little noise of vexation, his back legs kicking out in a bout of defiance; Arthur tightened his hold on the back of Merlin's neck so that there was no danger of his getting away.

"Don't look at me like that. _You're_ the one being annoying."

Merlin grunted again, a soft, childlike grunt, and Arthur raised one eyebrow at him before turning and retracing his steps back toward the physician's chambers.

* * *

"I'm sorry to say this, sire, but I really don't think leaving him here will do any good."

Arthur regarded Merlin with a dark look as he took in Gaius' wise words; the little cat replied was, without a care, flipping onto his back and wrestling distractedly with a small pouch of seeds into which he had, at some point, hooked his claws.

"Apparently," Gaius continued intelligently, "Merlin's mind still recognizes you as his master. His instincts draw him to you out of loyalty."

"Wonderful," Arthur grumbled; never before had he had reason to dislike Merlin's undeserved loyalties to him, but for once, he was actually wishing the other man could do this one thing, at least, in moderation.

"I'm afraid if you leave him, he'll only get out again, your majesty," the physician pointed out.

Arthur, freely admitting to himself it was done out of adolescent spite, swiped the bag of seeds away from Merlin just as the cat had triumphantly torn a hole into the side of the pouch; typically, his efforts merely backfired when the feline assumed it was a game, and playfully dove for his hands.

Call it a moment of weakness, but when cat-Merlin then looked up at Arthur with big, bright, adoring eyes, Arthur could not stop himself from thinking, momentarily, that this variant of his inane manservant was more stupidly adorable than the usual one.

He shook his head to clear it of these utterly ridiculous thoughts.

"Very well," he sighed. "I suppose I have no other choice, then. I'll take him with me."

"Very well, sire," the physician said trustingly.

Arthur scooped Merlin into one arm as though he were a sack of undesirable potatoes. As was becoming something of a habit, the cat purred and nuzzled his shoulder lovingly.

"And Arthur—"

The king turned back at the sound of Gaius' voice.

"—good luck to you."

He grimaced and struggled to keep his present thoughts toward his annoying manservant at bay in his mind.

* * *

"Merlin, would you stop it _please_?"

The feline in question, who had just succeeded in knocking over the very last piece of armor in Arthur's chambers still standing, froze from where he was climbing in exploration of the small table against the wall in between two windows. His huge ears perked up, eyes growing bright from where he had been peering over the edge of said table at the momentarily noisy helmet now lying silently on the floor.

Arthur groaned outwardly as his small-minded manservant came frolicking around the corner, hearing only his name in his beloved master's voice and uncomprehending—or perhaps simply uncaring—of the fact that he spoke in barely-contained annoyance.

Arthur watched with unhappy eyes as Merlin leapt up, claws piercing through the knee of his tan trousers before he hopped up onto the top of the writing-desk at which the king sat.

He raised one eyebrow as Merlin sat on the tabletop just beside the parchment upon which he was attempting (and pitifully failing) to write a speech. He narrowed his eyes at the cat. Merlin mimicked him. He sighed, and then Merlin proceeded to follow his movements distractedly as the king reached out and dipped the end of his quill into the container of ink at his right.

Arthur knew the breathless moments of peace were doomed to be ruined, and his suspicions were confirmed when Merlin became captured by the black liquid dripping from the end of the quill; his eyes flickered back to the small bowl from which the drop had come, and then he moved toward it so eagerly that the tip of his nose ended up coated by the sticky, black liquid.

"Merlin!"

The feline confusedly shook his head in an attempt to throw the uncomfortable mess off, but it was Arthur's grabbing him and brushing the sleeve of his shirt across the end of his nose that removed it entirely.

"_You're_ cleaning this tomorrow," the king told him, holding the quick-drying stain of black on his red sleeve up for plain viewing.

"_Mrouw,"_ was his only answer, and then, _of course_, Merlin was purring again and nuzzling his ear against Arthur's hand.

In was in that moment that Arthur, though not, by any means, an expert on cats or any other animal that did not involving hunting, remembered when he had been a child, and Morgana had found a wounded kitten in the street. He recalled how she had cared for it—but more importantly, he recalled that in her care, the kitten never caused a problem in its contentment of warm milk to drink and a soft toy with which to play.

"Are you thirsty?"

Merlin did not bother replying, but only rubbed his side all the way down to the tip of his tail against the palm of Arthur's hand.

"Maybe it'll distract you, at least."

Merlin, displeased when Arthur stood and left him sitting in the desk, followed his king to the door of his chambers as he opened it and called out to the young manservant making his way down the hall with an armful of freshly-washed curtains.

"You, there!"

The servant turned in instant obedience of the king's beckoning.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Fetch me a bowl of milk from the kitchens, if you would."

"A…bowl of milk, sire?"

Arthur ignored the tone.

"Yes. Warm milk, preferably, or at least as warm as you can get it."

A crash from somewhere behind him made Arthur wince.

"Quickly, please."

The manservant tilted his head the littlest bit in a vain attempt to peer into the room over the king's shoulder, but then replied, completely monotone (because though he had not been working in the castle for very long, he had learnt quickly that it was certainly a place of peculiarities and new adventures every day).

"As you wish, my lord."

When Arthur shut the door and turned around again, he saw Merlin entangled in an aggressive battle with a piece of thread dangling from Arthur's bed-cover; apparently, he was winning, if the unseemly rips marking the whole corner of the expensive fabric were anything to go by.

"_Merlin._"

**To be continued**

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_Next chapter's a little longer, so stick around.  
And review!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello, everyone! Sorry for the later update-but I will tell you that I've not been slothful all this time. You now have fifty-five pages of reincarnation Merlin fic to look forward to (and I'm only on part 2, which means I'm not even halfway done yet). So yeah. Be prepared.  
Thanks for sticking around, and for all the reviews and favorites. Here's more cute kitty!Merlin for you to snuggle:_

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**Chapter Four**

Arthur had always heard it said that dogs were the most loyal creatures man could ever have as companions. After today, however, he would beg to differ. None of his dogs followed his every step so closely that they got tangled up at his ankles like this _cat_.

He used his foot to push Merlin away roughly as he walked back to his writing-desk—not enough to hurt him, but enough so that he'd know Arthur meant it. Merlin, as always, completely missed the point of his master's action and instead considered it a game, promptly hopping right back at his feet, nearly tripping him for the third time in ten seconds.

"_Merlin."_

A meow, jovial and affectionate, was the only reply to his clenched-teeth warning.

"You," he declared as he spun to sit back down on his chair, "are, without a doubt, the most annoying pest in all the five kingdoms. I should keep you this way and give you as a gift to Princess Vivien. Maybe you would drive her away from liking me so much."

Merlin leapt up to the same spot on the desk where he'd been sitting before, meowed softly, and twitched one ear. His eyes pulled away from Arthur and roamed over the desk before stopping, once again, on the ink container. Luckily, Arthur was watching too.

"Stay, Merlin."

He wasn't sure if those sorts of commands worked on felines, and they most certainly didn't work on human-breed Merlin, but he figured he might as well give it a try all the same. To his surprise, the cat looked at him again, as though trying to gauge how serious his master was being, and then bent down until his head rested comfortably on the tops of his paws, his tail flicking back and forth slowly behind him and eyes locked upon the king's sun-tanned face.

Arthur was mildly impressed—though with his own authority, or with Merlin's (one-time) obedience, he wasn't exactly sure.

"Good," he commented lightly, and reached out to rub his fingers gently just beneath Merlin's jaw at his right ear.

It wasn't until Merlin's huge eyes closed as though he was dozing off, and his grateful purring broke into Arthur's aimless thoughts, that the man realized what he was doing.

He pulled his hand back, eyes narrowed awkwardly at himself as he realized he had been petting _Merlin_ in a _not_-condescending manner, and retrieved his quill from where he'd tossed it aside at the feline's earlier adventure in the ink-bowl, intent upon ignoring the light blue-green gaze no matter how much persistent meowing reached his ears.

Merlin, at the loss of Arthur's warm touch, seemed to sigh noiselessly and, seeing that his master was deeply concentrated upon his work, rolled over onto his side for lack of a more interesting thing to do. (Arthur had moved out of his reach anything on the desk which may cause noise, mess, or general trouble.) The cat was temporarily amused by the alternate aspect of the room, his curious eyes darting about the place as Arthur's quill-pen scratched quietly upon the parchment.

Then, Arthur was fighting a long-withheld bout of temper as a river of ink from the container ran all over the scroll when Merlin suddenly flipped over onto his back and made a vicious lunge. All four claws scratched red marks onto his forearm through the thin fabric as his miniaturized imbecile struggled to get a grip upon a short red thread hanging from the arm of the well-worn shirt.

"MERLIN!"

The speech now gloriously ruined thanks to the dark splotches sinking into the parchment, Arthur shoved Merlin away and attempted to toss the thing aside before the cat's fur got into it and he tracked the black ink all over the place.

Merlin, uncomprehending of the situation and totally entranced by the tempting, red string, continued to wrestle with Arthur's movements, making it difficult for him to so much as see the tabletop to clean up the mess in front of him.

"Merlin, _STOP IT RIGHT NOW_!"

It had been a great many weeks since he had shouted so forcefully, and at the sound (which sweet and understanding Guinevere always told him was more terrifying than he thought), the young cat seemed to realize that his master was greatly unhappy with him. Without a moment's hesitation, he backed up a couple of steps and sat upon the far corner of the writing-desk, head bent and tail circled around, completely still except for the little folding-down of his ears.

Arthur ignored him for a long moment as he rolled the parchment and pushed it aside so that the ink would not run out; he had every intention of showing Merlin that his new fragility and—yes, he had to admit it, much as he was loathe to do so—adorableness made him no more immune to Arthur's ire than his_ old_ fragility and adorableness did, and so the king spun around to face him…and then ended up doing just the opposite.

He cursed inside his mind. How was he supposed to shout at Merlin when the idiot cat was watching him with eyes so big and _infuriatingly glittery_?

"What's wrong with you?" he sighed. It was more of a growl, really, and he was not certain if he was addressing Merlin or himself.

Merlin, hearing his beloved king's voice not as loud and angry as it had been a few heartbeats before, meowed in a tone which sounded suspiciously like that familiar "_It wasn't my fault, Arthur!_" So the king settled for collapsing again into his chair, now officially having given up on the parchment until Merlin's hands were back to speech-writing form, and then his eyes caught sight of the loose string on his sleeve.

He looked to Merlin again, and actually wanted to laugh at the predictability of the cat's eyes longingly watching the thread, ears moving a bit as though he were fighting an urge not to lunge for it again, for Arthur's sake, the man guessed.

With a slight headshake at his ever-ridiculous manservant, Arthur tugged gently on the string so that it would not break, and Merlin watched with a hopeful gaze as it came undone from the rest of the Camelot-red shirt.

"Is this really enough to entertain you?" the king questioned, dangling it in front of his face.

Merlin studied his face carefully and, seeing no more displeasure in the handsomeness of it, gladly pawed at the string.

Arthur pulled his wrist back, and Merlin, forgetting his earlier sadness, dove for it with his tail in the air.

The king could not hold in a sharp laugh at how mad the little creature looked, chasing a simple thread around in a circle like the fun of it was all that mattered in the whole world.

All at once and without warning, Arthur was saddened.

Reaching out—with intent, this time—he put his hand under Merlin's ribs and once again felt the pounding heart vibrating his tiny chest. The young feline, now entirely cured of his unhappiness, relaxed in Arthur's hand as the king lifted him up to eyelevel. As thought in question of Arthur's thoughts, Merlin reached out with one paw to tap curiously (and still somewhat playfully) at the man's cheek.

Arthur allowed it now, because a new realization had unexpectedly struck him like a lightning-flash…which was, incidentally, how most of his realizations about Merlin struck him, and always had, since the day they'd met.

He let go of the string and put his palm behind Merlin's back, feeling slightly foolish about not knowing exactly how to hold a cat but then understanding that Merlin was content no matter how he held him, just so long as he was holding him.

Merlin blinked at him, and Arthur was overcome by a strange feeling which twisted in his gut.

They had all endured so much since the day of his and Merlin's meeting, he thought solemnly, so much trial and heartache; sometimes it had felt like the sun would never shine again, after Morgana, and then his father….But looking into this creature's eyes now, he saw the innocence there that Merlin had always possessed, that ever-present fairytale-hope that believed in some love which still thrived in the world, and was still above to overcome evil and bring peace and joy to the good. It was that essence of Merlin which had been darkened the tiniest bit by reality since they'd met, with all the pain he'd endured in the service of Arthur—the physical injuries _and_ the deeper wounds which always took longer to heal.

No one would ever guess it, he knew—least of all Merlin, but there were times when the king wondered if he was selfish to keep his manservant so close to him. He wondered the same about Guinevere, and Gaius, and even the knights—all of those who had, at one time or another, been put into harm's way for their association with him. But most of all, there was Merlin, who had proven himself over and over to be the greatest and most loyal friend one could ever find and still put up with Arthur's barricading walls of self-strength and solitude.

The cat in his hands mewled quietly, disliking the look upon his good master's countenance, and Arthur acted upon total instinct with him for once, pulling the creature forward against his shoulder and holding the warm body in his arms. He prayed, somewhere deep down, that Merlin wouldn't remember any of this once he was back to normal, but he mostly did not care in that moment whether he did or not.

Merlin deserved to have this innocence and peace of mind, even if it was in the mind of a feline, and even if it wouldn't last longer than the day.

Against his shoulder, a soft meow was muffled, and that loud purring started up again.

**To be continued**

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed! Wish I could write more author's note, but I'm late for church as it is, so see ya! (And leave a review!)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello, everybody! I hope you're all doing good, and I do apologize for being so many days late. Working on that reincarnation fic I mentioned before, and it's steadily growing. As in, 80 document pages, and growing. *passes out and jumps back up to type some more*  
I know that, in the end of _A Servant of Two Masters_, there wasn't actually animosity between George and Merlin, but in this fic, Merlin is a cat (like you didn't know that...hehe), and I imagine him in feline form to be a bit more possessive and jealous than he is in his human form (particularly over Arthur). Also, I thought it made him cuter. Sue me._

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**Chapter Five**

When the requested bowl of milk was finally delivered, Arthur nearly sighed when he saw its deliverer was none other than George, the manservant, who had taken a position as a supervising servant after Merlin had returned from the apparent dead and retaken his duties. Even though he required all servants beneath him to be precise and quick, and did not hesitate to end their situations if they were not up to his standards, George still did not trust anyone but himself to carry out the king's orders if they were to someone other than Merlin.

When he approached, his steps light and hurried, Merlin (who had been sitting, surprisingly well-behaved, for the past several minutes at Arthur's writing-desk) took one, lazy glance at him and promptly acquired a look that was closest to vain the young king had ever seen in the face of an animal.

"Good afternoon, sire," George articulated as he set the bowl down on the desk in front of him.

Arthur, who was not quite as unobservant as some would believe, noticed it when George gave a sidelong look at the unfamiliar cat, held the piercing blue glare evenly for a very long moment, and then straightened his shoulders and looked back to his king.

"Thank you, George," Arthur said, feeling inexplicably awkward at the exchange he'd just witnessed. "I appreciate that you brought it up yourself."

"Of course, sire. I wouldn't allow any less for you, your majesty."

At that, Merlin made a noise which might have been punctuated by the rolling of his eyes should he have been human. He stood with a deliberate show of elegance, flipped his two-tone tail in the air slowly and ostentatiously, and slid his back under the hand of his beloved master, looking only away from the proud manservant's face to dip his tiny, pink tongue in the fresh milk.

Arthur stroked Merlin's back absent-mindedly, unaware that the jealousy-prone feline was relishing in the affection in George's haughty presence.

George narrowed his eyes at the cat, and whether he had a sure idea of who it was or if he just took an immediate dislike to the creature out of nature, we may never know.

"Shall I do anything else for you, sire, while I am here?"

At that, Merlin raised his head to continue glaring.

Arthur ruffled the fur between his perked ears.

"No, thank you, George. You may go."

George bowed, once, curtly, and turned to leave with one, last look into the sharpness of Merlin's eyes.

"Oh, George!" Arthur called out, recalling suddenly Merlin's earlier fascination when the cat began to peer around for the scarlet thread, which had fallen aside. "Will you please bring me some string?"

"String, sire."

"Yes. A lot of it. Get it from the seamstresses, if you can."

Merlin, who had begun purring again with eyes closed now that George was retreating, nuzzled his head against Arthur's fingers in gratitude of the warmth of them. George narrowed his eyes into wondering slits.

"Of course, my lord."

And with that, he left, and several questions which he was too proper and logical to voice bounced around in his organized mind all the way to the seamstress'.

* * *

It was less than ten minutes later that there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Arthur called from where he sat at his dining table.

As the knob turned, he pushed Merlin's long tail out of the way of the paragraph he was attempting to read with a subdued toleration. Merlin, who was extremely captivated by the shiny helmet Arthur had placed in front of him (in hopes to get the time to read at least one page without interruption), did not seem to notice the king's annoyance at his unruly tail or the new person entering the room, and just went on about his business examining the peculiar piece of gleaming metal at all possible angles.

When Arthur looked up to see Guinevere closing the door behind her, Arthur immediately laid aside the book and greeted her with a welcoming smile.

"Guinevere," he said with mild surprise. "It's nice to see you here."

At the sound of Arthur's voice, Merlin peeked up over the top of the helmet.

Gwen giggled at the sudden appearance of his huge ears and curious eyes.

"I had a short reprieve from my duties earlier," said she, putting her hand in the pocket of her simple, dainty dress, "and I made something for Merlin. I thought he'd be here."

Merlin, whose reaction to Gwen's presence was considerably better than his reaction to George's, tiptoed around the helmet and sat before her on the tabletop expectantly, as though he had understood every word of what she'd said.

Guinevere smiled at him and produced a small piece of red fabric.

Arthur could not help but grin with a chuckle of "I cannot believe this" when he realized what she was doing.

Once Gwen had pulled her hands back to get a good look at her work, Merlin tilted his head just slightly to the side. When he, too, realized what the attentive woman done, he meowed loudly with happiness and bounded a little in his excitement.

She laughed aloud, her eyes shining as she watched him thank her in his own special way.

Arthur met her eyes, and could not help but sit back in his chair with a great, hearty laugh as the little creature celebrated over his gift. If he hadn't been a perfectly feline Merlin before, the miniaturized red scarf adorning his fur-soft neck made it undeniably obvious now.

Merlin skipped to his chuckling master and placed both paws against his chest, meowing persistently for his attention.

"I see it, Merlin," Arthur answered his mewls. "It looks just as ridiculous as always."

Gwen grinned wider at the joy of her dear boys, and when Merlin scampered to her and put his paws atop each of her hands, she replied to his silent thanks,

"Oh, you're so welcome, Merlin. Don't listen to him. It's very attractive on you."

Merlin meowed, loudly, once more, and continued to dance around the table, the neck-scarf soft against his back as he did.

"He won't shut up about this for at least another candle-mark, I hope you're aware," Arthur told her, but the laughter in his eyes dispelled any dislikes he could have of this fact.

"Well, we could hardly have Merlin running about without a neck-scarf," she replied evenly. "It would simply upset the balance of nature."

Arthur laughed again, and after watching Merlin nearly run straight into the helmet he'd forgotten was sitting there, he looked back up to her and said, his voice soft and sincere as he smiled,

"I love you, Guinevere."

Her eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat, because in all the times she'd imagined what his voice would sound like saying it, she never thought it could be so beautiful.

"I love you, Arthur," she said in return, once her breath was returned.

Arthur took her hand and kissed it gently; it was not a solemn action, heavy with depth or meaning, but was simple, and easy, and absolutely perfect.

Merlin cantered to them, desiring Arthur's attention once more after his brief interval, and Arthur used the hand which wasn't holding onto Guinevere's to smooth out the scarf against his back.

Gwen didn't think that moment could have been any more wonderful even if Merlin had been human.

**To be continued**

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_I just had to do it. :)  
And one thing (almost) entirely unrelated to this story: Does anyone reading have a livejournal account, and if so, would you mind terribly informing me on how it all works, showing me what communities I should join, etc. I just made one recently and I really would love to know which Merlin communities there are to explore, who are some good people to follow, and that sort of thing. Thanks so much! :D_


	6. Chapter 6

_It feels like this is getting redundant, but I am so sorry for the late update! I was at a conference in Washington, D.C. for three days, still having to stay an extra hour after school every day, and I'm on yearbook staff this year, aaaaand I've been working busily on that long Merlin fic I've been telling you about. And I do mean loooooong. When I started it, I thought it would be maybe 20 pages, no more than 10,000 words. Guess what? 112 pages, 55,174 words. Yeah. Needless to say, you're going to have plenty of Merlin to read from me this summer. (Don't be nervous; hopefully you'll enjoy it. *hehe*)  
I promise-cross my heart and hope to die-that I will not be so late with the next update!_

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Of course, Arthur had been completely correct in his estimate of when Merlin's enthusiasm for Gwen's thoughtful gift would die away. It was almost exactly one candle-mark later that the energetic feline finally stopped dancing about on the tabletop and attempting to get his master to pay attention to him. (Arthur was becoming steadily better at ignoring his pleading blue eyes and distractingly huge ears.) Seeing that he was really not going to cooperate, Merlin leapt down off the tabletop to explore once more, peeking into all the corners and beneath the furniture he hadn't yet had the chance to properly investigate.

Arthur breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Merlin tiptoed across the room, finally able to concentrate entirely upon the page he'd read three times over now.

Merlin nearly toppled over trying to bend his neck enough to see the top of the folding screen, over which hung a pair of Arthur's trousers and a white shirt from when he'd changed the day before. He regained his balance quite easily, however, and proceeded to peer around said screen, carefully, as though there might be something dangerous hiding behind it. What he found was something he certainly hadn't expected.

He approached the looking-glass slowly, his ears straight and his tail curled up, and when he realized that it was not a vicious-looking, rival cat he saw but a friendly-looking one with a matching red scarf, the distrust dropped immediately away from his eyes and changed to a warm amiability. He sat himself down centimeters away, watching the other cat move and not daring to blink as he waited for his fellow feline to get out of sync with him.

When he saw that this apparently would not happen as long as he was predictable in his motions, an idea sprung to him, and he ducked his whole body down so that even his tail was out of sight of the mirror. He was immensely shocked when the other cat reappeared at the exact same instant he did.

He was even more shocked when his head struck something hard and cold and he sat, stunned, for a moment and tried to fathom why his tackle hadn't worked according to plan.

Just when a new notion started to form in his mind, the sound of the latch on the chamber door reached his ears, and he cast one fierce glance behind him at the other cat, who was also fleeing and glancing rather contemptuously back at him.

When he arrived at the dining table where his king sat, Merlin was not at all pleased to find his place as the center of Arthur's attention had been once again invaded by George, the manservant.

"There you are, Merlin," Arthur said, looking away from George and to him, which made the cat feel considerably better.

Neither Arthur nor Merlin ever noticed the slip, but when he heard the name by which the king called his mysterious new pet, George's back straightened even more than normal and his dark brows shot up toward his hairline.

"I hope this is sufficient to your desires, my lord," was all he said, however. "The seamstresses had this excess thread to toss away, so they were unopposed to my taking it upon your request."

Arthur watched as Merlin, drawn by the kaleidoscope of colors wound and knotted together in the mess of yarn dumped upon the table, began to pluck his claws into the string.

"This is certainly good enough, George, thank you," he answered graciously. "You may go now."

George bowed, curtly, with his hands locked behind his back, and then, he betrayed his usual single-minded state of being by pausing briefly at the door. He squinted his eyes together in thought and shook his head, once, sharply, before he left the king and his Merlin to their games.

Some time later, Arthur stood from his writing-desk to prepare for tournament practice in the evening. He stretched his cramped muscles, yawned broadly, and suddenly realized that he hadn't heard a peep out of his idiotic cat in a great while.

He circled around the bed, where he'd last seen the multicolored thread being dragged. When he got there, he sighed. Deeply.

"Can't you do anything right, Merlin?"

The creature in question, who might have looked like a menacing wildcat caught in a trap were it not that he was so pathetically skinny and the net was rainbow-colored, mewled helplessly and kicked out in a vain attempt to untangle himself.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, come here."

Merlin settled down just slightly when Arthur picked him up into his strong hands—colorful yarn and all—and sat down on the edge of his bed. The king set the little creature in his lap and, with surprisingly dexterous fingers, began to tug the knots out of the thread which Merlin had pulled tighter around himself with his struggling.

Merlin sat still enough, with just barely-audible meows breaking his silence.

"You certainly can make a mess out of the simplest things, can't you?"

He held up one paw helpfully for Arthur to unwrap a stubborn orange string.

"That's the trouble with string, Merlin," the man said as he undid the last bit of blue yarn from Merlin's two-tone tail.

Merlin turned carefully around in his lap, hearing his master's tone change to something low and distant as he'd spoken these last words. The little feline found the man's handsome face haunted, the sapphire blues of his eyes clouded, and he stopped all his own noise-making to pay attention.

"You get so wrapped up in it all," Arthur went on, and it didn't sound as though he was talking at all about string any longer, so Merlin listened, just as he always listened. "It's not that it's not a good thing—it is. You can make beautiful things out of string, I suppose; I've never tried myself, you know, but…"

He trailed off, and then he smirked down at the cat standing on his knees, and couldn't help but touch the soft fur beneath Merlin's jaw.

"You know what I mean, don't you?" he said. "It's just that it can be a terrible thing too—all knotted up and impossible to follow. If you get caught in the tangled pieces, there's no getting out on your own."

Merlin meowed a soft agreement.

"It's not that I don't like being king," Arthur said quietly, and he certainly wasn't talking about string anymore. "I love my people, more than anything. You know that I do, Merlin."

He purred understandingly.

"I want to be the best I can be for them. That's really what I've always wanted." He ran his fingers along Merlin's back, underneath the red scarf. "It's just that, sometimes, I feel…trapped." He sighed again. "Is that wrong of me, Merlin?"

Merlin vehemently leapt up at that; he pressed both of his front paws against Arthur's stomach, and when he'd gotten a good look into the man's eyes, he rubbed his ear against his shoulder.

Arthur huffed out a laugh and picked the cat up, once again dangling him up in one hand without elegance.

"You are such a strange little thing," he declared, eyes sparkling with fondness he would never wholly voice; then, his countenance changed. "I'm going to be late for training if we don't hurry. Are you coming too, then?"

Merlin, once the king had placed him back on the floor in favor of finding his duller sword in his wardrobe, meowed out his happy answer and skipped after the man's worn boots.

**To be continued**

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_Next chapter is the final one, which will be up in a week or less, and then an epilogue! I wish you all a wonderful week, even those of you who won't review. ;)  
(By the way, does anyone have any new info on the next season? If so, I'd love for you to leave it in a review. Thanks!)  
(And by another way, what is that piece of furniture on the left side of Arthur's bed called? It bothers me every time I think about it...not that I make it a habit to thing about furniture or anything...)_


	7. Chapter 7

_So there's not much to report today (I was a marshal in the kindergarten graduation tonight, so now I'm sleepy and my creativity for conversation suffers...), but I hope you all had a good week, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorited so far.  
This is the final chapter, featuring, as we all probably expected, a bit of adorable kitty!Merlin whump and protective!Arthur. (I just couldn't resist.)_

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**Chapter Seven**

"Where'd Merlin get off to?" Gwaine questioned as they laid their weapons aside in favor of cool drinking-water in the humid evening air.

Arthur hardly needed glance up to know that his newly-acquired pest was gone from the place where he'd firmly told him to sit half-an-hour previous, when the knights' training had commenced and the cat had been wide-eyed at all the fascinating movement on the grounds. He should have known Merlin would get bored after a few minutes.

"He's fine," Arthur reassured him, because, though he'd never admit as much aloud, while he'd always had a brotherly sort of protectiveness for his little, trouble-prone manservant, he knew better than anyone that Merlin was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. "Probably just went looking for something to do…or destroy."

"He's never been able to keep interest in training for too long, unless he's the target," observed Elyan with a smile, as he poured a bit of the clear water over his head.

"He's never been able to stand still at all for too long and be comfortable," Leon chuckled, recalling how fidgety Merlin became during long banquets with eternally-drab speeches, and how eventually Arthur would just send him to clean his chambers and tell him not to come back until it was entirely spotless.

"There he is," said Percival, and the men looked to where he gestured to see a long, gray-and-white tail curling over a pile of polished armor on the sidelines a little way across the field.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but did not make an effort to go over and stop Merlin's single-minded exploration of the complicated and shiny items.

"Come on," he said to his men instead. "We'll go at it until sunset, and then I have a speech to prepare."

"Good luck," needled Leon playfully, for he was well aware of the other man's aversion to the art of being a wordsmith.

Arthur just chuckled wryly as he led them back out to the open space, where a few of the other manservants had set out new targets for their spear practice.

Merlin, meanwhile, peered over a dinted breastplate on the weather-beaten tabletop; once he was assured that his beloved master was still within his sight, he ducked his head down and stuck his tail in the air again. Satisfied with his current situation, he continued to tiptoe unhurriedly through the wondrously captivating maze of armor, giving dark looks at the returned copycat who stuck close at his side as he went.

When the sun began to sink into the flamed sky behind the castle tower a short while later, Merlin was greatly startled by a sudden, thunderous voice above him.

"Oi! Get out of there, you filthy animal!"

The feline leapt back in a combination of fear and temper as a large, calloused hand reached violently toward him. His side struck a helmet which had been teetering on the edge of the tabletop as he pressed away from the unfamiliar knight; the helmet tumbled off and broke into two pieces upon the hard, rocky ground.

The knight swore.

"You stupid beast," he spat as he bent down to retrieve his fallen property; when he saw that it had been broken, he hurled it down at the table with all his force. One of the broken parts bounced and struck Merlin's front paw.

The little cat made a pained, shrieking noise and jumped down, landing imbalanced with his left front paw held up from the ground.

"It's going to take a bagful of coins to fix this," the knight riled on, though the helmet had been nearly broken before due to his own carelessness. "Get back here, ugly creature."

Merlin hissed with ire as he was violently jerked from where he'd been limping hastily toward the field. He bared his sharp, white teeth, his eyes glinting at the ruddy man as the rough hand—nothing like Arthur's rough hand, much meaner—tightened acutely around his fragile ribs.

The knight roared in pain and rage as the razor-like teeth sank deeply into his wrist, the claws of the uninjured front paw slicing gashes into his unkemptly hirsute face. He tossed the struggling cat down with as little concern as he had his broken armor, promptly stepping on his tail so that he could not get away while he pressed his hand against the shallow stripes on his cheek.

Merlin mewled as he tried to pull his tail from where it was trapped beneath the heavy boot, succeeding only in bringing himself more affliction.

"I'm going to break your scrawny neck," the man swore through clenched teeth, caring not that the red scarf must mean that the beautiful feline was cherished by someone.

Merlin's childlike shriek as the man's other boot struck his side with a dull thud would have broken any listener's heart, were there someone near enough to care.

There was.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Merlin, whose ears bent down as his eyes turned bleary with the pain, tried to shake himself awake as he heard his savior's voice rise above the ringing in his head.

"The little _menace_ needs to be taught a lesson, sire," said the mean voice from above him, but Merlin didn't care to understand him; he was focusing his eyes on the blonde hero standing boldly in front of him. "One less filthy creature on the streets."

Arthur's eyes flashed subtly.

"Let him go," he commanded, and all except the low warning underlying his royal voice was silent; even the other knights around them had stopped speaking to one another. "That 'creature' belongs to me."

The knight's anger never dissipated completely at that, but his face paled beneath his dark tan, and he had no choice but to obey the order of his king.

Merlin scrambled unsteadily, limping and swaying as he walked away from his captor and toward his good master.

Arthur leant down and picked him up carefully, cradling Merlin's lean body in both arms a bit awkwardly for fear of harming him further, and, for one of the rare times, caring little what anyone watching thought of him for it. He instinctively smoothed down the red scarf as he addressed his offending knight once more.

"I will not have any of my men behaving like such a fool," he proclaimed, his voice hard and expression unyielding. "If I ever see you displaying such a reckless and juvenile temper again, especially toward a creature so helpless against you, you will be banned from attendance of training until after the next tournament. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sire." He bowed; under the weight of King Arthur's gaze, all of his anger had indeed fled him.

"You are dismissed for today," the king said loudly, speaking to all around now. "Anyone who wishes to stay and continue his own practice has my permission, as always."

The men listening began to turn away; the one he had been addressing did not even bother gathering his things together before he left around the castle wall.

Arthur, as most of the knights began to clear away from the field, turned Merlin over in his arms, pushed one of his limp ears up with his thumb, and looked into his white-gray face.

Merlin blinked at him and tilted his head in that particular way that told Arthur he was all right.

The king felt a smile curve at one corner of his mouth; at that, the cat started to purr lightly.

"I'll take him to Gaius, if you want, my lord," Percival's kind voice said from beside him, as his strong, sure hands reached out for their friend.

"No, I will," said Arthur with gratitude, as he shifted Merlin in his arms again so that the feline might lie more comfortably. "He'll be fine."

This seemed to appease the four noble men, for when Arthur was not afraid for his manservant, it meant that there was no need for anyone else to be. Nevertheless, each one patted the young man-turned-cat in turn as they bade them both farewell for the day.

Merlin blearily meowed his own form of "good-night," and settled down warmly as he was carried toward the physician's chambers in Arthur's arms.

* * *

It was a short time later when Arthur reached his own night-darkened chambers once more, and now the cat in his arms wore, along with his treasured red scarf, a tiny white bandage on his left front paw. Arthur was frankly amazed that there wasn't more damage than that done to his side, for he had seen with his own eyes the force behind Meltor's kick, but Gaius had only shrugged when he said so and told him that Merlin's body had always been remarkably resilient to such things. There would likely be bruises there when he returned to his human form, but nothing more serious than that.

He scooted Merlin into the crook of one arm, reaching out with his free hand and getting one of the feather pillows from his own bed.

"You're cleaning this tomorrow," he informed the yawning animal as he dropped it down to the floor near his writing-desk.

He settled Merlin down on top of it, wary of his injured paw, and yawned himself as he moved toward his wardrobe in search of the old trousers he slept in.

By the time he'd changed, he turned back to a sight he hadn't anticipated. Merlin had gotten up from his restful place on the pillow; where Arthur thought he'd be sound asleep by now, he was instead standing, hurt paw mindfully off the cool ground, with the corner of his pillow in his mouth as he dragged it across the floor.

"What are you doing?" he asked, too tired to be anything more than curious at this point.

Merlin released the cloth from his teeth only to give the man a meowed answer.

Arthur resisted the urge to groan, reminding himself firstly that Merlin had been through a great deal that day, and secondly that arguing with Merlin rarely produced any satisfactory results anyway.

"All right, all right," he consented sleepily as he bent over and took the pillow up. "Where do you want it, then?"

Merlin limped a few steps to the side of Arthur's bed and sat down.

Arthur complied and set the pillow on the floor just in front of him with a friendly warning.

"Fine, if that's how you want it, but don't be upset if I step on you tomorrow morning because I forget you're there."

Merlin never moved, but the look in his huge, bright blue eyes made his message clear enough.

"What, that's not where you want it?"

A tiny mewl.

Arthur inhaled slowly, his patience close to depletion.

"This is ridiculous," he said, mostly to himself, as he picked up the pillow once more and tossed it onto the bed where he'd gotten it. "If you're not going to tell me where you want it, Merlin, I'll just take it back and you can sleep on the floor."

Apparently, this development was exactly Merlin's desire, for he sprung up onto the furniture beside the bed and jumped with considerably more grace than Arthur thought was possible for him so that he landed on the bed.

He rolled his eyes and bit back another groan as Merlin turned in a circle, once, and dropped in a little knot in the center of the pillow.

After a moment, one round blue eye peeked open, one ear twitching up as he watched Arthur expectantly.

Arthur, whose will to fight with his witty companion degenerated with his liveliness at the end of the day, sighed deeply and circled around to the other side of the bed. He pulled back the blankets and rested his weary body against the soft mattress, eyeing his little friend who lay right beside the pillow where his own head rested.

Merlin, feeling his master watching him, shifted and opened his eyes to meet Arthur's own right across from him.

"This will never happen again, is that clear?"

Merlin meowed dismissively, entirely unruffled, rolling his head back to a more comfortable position against the silken fur of his front arms.

Arthur, in the ensuing silence of the next few minutes, when the world around him was finally at peace and the heavy crown he bore was nowhere in sight, inhaled deeply and slowly with one hand behind his head.

Lazily, he turned his face to his right, where slow breaths emanated from the slumbering creature beside him. A sudden thought striking him, he reached out and gently tugged the knot from the red scarf underneath Merlin's jaw and tossed the little fabric aside; it simply wouldn't do for the idiot to strangle himself with the thing in his sleep.

As his greatest friend's purring snores filled the otherwise quiet air in his chambers, Arthur drifted off into a deep sleep.

**To be continued  
(to epilogue)**


	8. Epilogue

_Would you believe that I totally forgot to update for the past four days? It's summertime, I'm out of school, I have minimal responsibilities, and I _forgot_. Honestly._

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**Epilogue**

Arthur awoke the next morning to a sharp, startled yelp.

The king was pulled from his comfortable slumber by the sudden twisting of the blankets from off of his body, followed by a muffled thud which made him rub at his eyes and push himself up hazily.

It was then that he realized his soft blankets were missing entirely from the bed, and the pillow next to him preserved a roundish depression where a small, warm creature had lain all the night, but no small, warm creature was in sight.

He sighed, wondering where he would find the ridiculous cat this time when he'd sneaked off without Arthur's knowing it. Then, a flutter of noise made him peer over the opposite side of the bed as the mid-morning light trickled into the room from the window. His eyes widened at the sight which met him—tangled red blankets cocooned around a very familiar, very _human_ body which was squirming like a distraught, pale fish caught in a net.

Merlin stopped his struggling with the blankets when he looked up beneath his uncombed mess of dark hair and found his master looking down at him rather amusedly.

"Arthur," said he hesitantly, nervously, as he glanced around the room, "what was I doing in your bed?"

Arthur grinned at him, (for once) actually glad to hear that slightly curious and more-than-slightly impudent voice.

Merlin never acknowledged Arthur's lack of response, because apparently something dawned on him at that moment, and he risked a quick peek under the twisted blankets and paled even more.

"And more importantly," he added, a twinge of frantic bafflement in his tone now, "why am I not wearing any clothes?"

Arthur resisted the urge to laugh, because really, it was all just too ridiculous to explain right off.

"Arthur!"

Merlin started to stand, but hissed in pain when he placed too much strain upon his hand, which had retained its injury from when it had been a paw. The white bandage having fallen off when he'd transformed, Merlin looked at his vaguely swollen fingers and his face attained more agitated bewilderment than painful discomfort from it.

"What _happened_?" he exclaimed, looking once more to his king for answers.

"You tell me," Arthur replied pointedly. "Only you, Merlin, could manage to be chased into an alley by enemy spies and come out a spoilt _cat_."

At that, Merlin's face acquired several expressions in succession. First, thoughtful confusion continued for a moment, proceeded by a second of glimmering realization, which was finally overtaken by a look which Arthur wouldn't even suspect as his servant's being mildly impressed with himself, but of course, that's exactly what it was.

"Mind explaining that, _Mer_lin?" the king pressed on, but Merlin recognized it as his I'm-asking-though-I-frankly-don't-care-and-probably-don't-want-to-know intonation, so the young manservant stood, gathering the blankets with him, and stumbled over to Arthur's wardrobe.

"I've got to get to Gaius," he declared as he grabbed the first shirt and trousers he saw, no matter how big they would suit his narrow frame. "I was supposed to clean the leech tank two days ago."

Arthur watched as the other young man held onto the covers around his waist with one hand and slid Arthur's old tunic over his head awkwardly with the other, never even bothering to ask if he could borrow them. Merlin took two steps toward the quiet servants' hall and tripped gracelessly over the still-tangled blankets wrapped around his skinny legs. The king raised one eyebrow at him as Merlin went tumbling to the floor half through the doorway, promptly hopping back up to pull on the too-large trousers as he went.

"I'll be back with your breakfast, sire…and your speech. I have to write your speech," he said distractedly, and then he paused half-way out the door, as though abruptly remembering something, and turned back to face the other man with calmed sincerity in his blue gaze. "Thank you, Arthur, for…you know, everything. Taking care of me and all that." He touched his injured hand and recalled, in vague, clouded memory, the sound of Arthur's voice as he'd protected him. "It really means a lot."

Arthur just raised both blonde eyebrows.

Merlin huffed in that way he always did when Arthur refused to take his sentiments seriously, still struggling as he was with the knotted blankets.

"Right," he said understandingly and stumbled out of Arthur's sight toward the physician's chambers.

It was not until after Merlin had gone that Arthur found it on the bed beside him.

He would never admit it aloud, to anyone, but he kept the miniaturized neck-scarf in the bottom of a drawer in his wardrobe from that day forward.

**The End**

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_So many thanks to everyone who's read, favorited, and reviewed! I'm so glad you've enjoyed kitty!Merlin, and do let me know if there's any specific story you'd like to see written, because while I have plenty of ideas at the moment, you all deserve a gift for your patience in late updates. ;) Thanks again!_


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